the elderly woman pulled out slowly in her Yaris. At first it looked as if Thora would have to search for another space, but she finally managed to squeeze the car nimbly into the tight space. She allowed herself a couple of seconds in the pouring rain to congratulate herself on her driving ability. In fact the car was a little too far from the kerb, but she should be returning shortly so she let it be. She was not at all sure she would do any better on the second try.
She could hear soft organ music through the thick wooden door as she stood in the rain outside the church. She hoped this didn’t mean the ceremony was underway. She had no desire to wander into the middle of a solemn moment not meant for strangers. Of course, it was going to be just as tasteless to shoulder her way up to a grieving mother she barely knew, but at least it was for a noble cause. She opened the door cautiously as the organist stopped in the middle of the tune, before starting on finger exercises. Thora shook rain from her jacket in the foyer before putting her ear against the door to the church itself. The organ notes overwhelmed almost all other noises, but she thought she could distinguish the murmur of voices within. She cracked open the door and peered though. Towards the front of the church sat two women, staring at a white coffin in front of the altar. One of them stood up and walked towards it, and from behind Thora could tell that it was Johanna, Alda’s sister. The short, grey hair of the woman still seated belonged to their mother. Thora slipped in. She was hoping to reach the women before they became aware of her, so she tried to keep the old door from creaking.
‘I would have wanted to have the coffin open,’ she heard Johanna say, as she tenderly stroked the gleaming lid of the casket. ‘I think Alda would have wanted it that way.’
As Thora drew closer she heard the older woman give a snort. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew how her face looked, with all those scratches on it. She wouldn’t have dreamt of letting people see her like that while she was alive.’
‘It could have been fixed with make-up,’ said Johanna testily. She turned to the coffin again, laying both hands on it. They rested there, motionless. ‘It would have been okay.’
‘If you want to see her for the last time I’m sure we can get the sexton to take the lid off,’ replied the old lady, without a trace of sensitivity. ‘I was here before when they brought her, and I got to see her.’ She hung her head. ‘I wouldn’t recommend it. This isn’t Alda any more. She’s ice cold and I’m sure she’s been brought here straight from cold storage. I wished I hadn’t been here.’
Thora was just one row behind the two women when she cleared her throat to draw their attention. She didn’t want to startle them, and felt uncomfortable to be practically spying on them. The organ music had made it possible for her to get this close, drowning out the low creaking of the floorboards. She would probably have been able to place her hand on the old woman’s shoulder before being noticed.
Both of the women turned and stared at Thora. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Johanna in surprise.
‘And how dare you come here?’exclaimed her mother, almost choking. ‘Don’t you know that we’re preparing for my daughter’s funeral? This isn’t the place for someone who defends her murderer.’ Anger had overcome the sorrow in her voice.
‘Markus didn’t murder her,’said Thora calmly, suppressing her discomfort at having disturbed mother and daughter at this private moment. ‘He has a good alibi that proves it was impossible for him to have been anywhere nearher at the time.’
Until that point Johanna had resembled a sleepwalker, but at this she seemed to brighten up slightly. Her face was even more haggard than Thora recalled; her hair was dirty, and her clothing showed signs of neglect. Her mother, however, had taken the time to fix herself up, and looked respectable. Of course, the difference in their appearance did not necessarily mean that the mother hadn’t taken the loss as hard as her daughter. Perhaps she had found it a comfort to have something to occupy herself, even if it were only making herself presentable for the funeral. The corners of her pink-painted lips turned down like a nearly perfect horseshoe, further emphasising the contrast between mother and daughter. ‘Of course he has an alibi,’ said the old woman, adding sarcastically:‘His brother Leifur wouldn’t have had any trouble sorting that out.’
‘No,’ said Thora, staying calm. ‘That’s not true.’ She wondered whether she should explain the alibi, but decided not to. They would either accept what she had to say, or not. ‘Markus is going before the judge today because of a police request that his detention be extended. It’s easy to prove that he didn’t murder Alda, but it’s proving harder to clear him of something that happened out on the Islands.’ She looked into the old woman’s eyes, which were burning with rage. ‘Most of the people who know what happened there are either too ill to be able to help him, or are no longer with us.’
‘And why are you looking at me?’asked Alda’s mother, putting one hand to her throat dramatically.‘I haven’t murdered anyone, if that’s what you’re insinuating.’
‘Of course not,’ Thora replied. ‘But I think you know, or at least have an idea, who these men were. I’m fairly certain that it was something to do with Markus’s father Magnus, and Dadi, who is deceased. Your husband may also have played a part.’
The woman stared at Thora without saying a word. Johanna looked from one of them to the other, her eyes wide. ‘Is that true, Mother? Is Markus locked up for a murder that Father committed?’
‘Utter nonsense,’ her mother spat, without looking at her daughter. She continued to glare at Thora.‘I must ask you to leave. Unfortunately, I cannot help you. If Magnus and Dadi did something, that’s too bad, but I cannot answer for it.’
‘Did Alda have a child?’ asked Thora suddenly. Johanna looked almost relieved at this question, perhaps thinking that it confirmed Thora had a screw loose. Her mother, on the other hand, appeared startled.
‘What now? More nonsense?’ asked the woman, but she wouldn’t meet Thora’s gaze.
‘I met a young man this morning who told me that Alda contacted him repeatedly and insisted that she was his mother,’ continued Thora. It was best to strike while the iron was hot. ‘Is he lying?’
‘What is she talking about, Mother?’ asked Johanna, querulously.‘Is this the secret Alda was going to tell me?’ she said, turning her bewildered face to Thora.
‘I don’t know,’ said Thora honestly. ‘All I know is that Alda disappeared for a while. She was supposedly a student at Isafjordur Junior College for about the same length of time as her pregnancy, if the story is true. But no one there knows anything about her. That’s why I’m wondering whether the man’s claim might be true.’
‘Who is this man?’ asked the old woman, and added frantically: ‘I mean, is he mentally ill, or something?’
Thora shrugged. ‘That’s neither here nor there. I’m not going to discuss him with you if he’s not Alda’s son, as you suggest. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have anything to do with you.’
The old woman’s head dropped. Thora expected to be chastised again, but instead the old woman’s shoulders started to shake, at first slightly, then more rapidly. Johanna went to her mother and sat down at her side. She put her arm around her shoulders, and little by little they stopped trembling. ‘Oh, God,’ the old woman said, but couldn’t continue through her sobs. After a while she said: ‘I’ve done so many bad things in my life. So many bad things. I should be lying in that coffin. Not Alda.’ She still did not look up.
‘Everyone makes mistakes,’ said Thora automatically. ‘It’s how you learn from them that matters.’
The woman shook her head. A moment later she raised her eyes pleadingly towards the white coffin that rested on a low platform before the altar. ‘That’s exactly what everyone fails to do. Everyone.’ She fell silent and Thora kept quiet too, thinking it would be best to give her a little time. She was afraid Alda’s mother might withdraw into her shell if she pushed too hard to get in. The woman spoke again: ‘Everything was different back then. Everything young people take for granted today didn’t exist. We had to work for everything.’
‘Did Alda have a child?’ asked Johanna angrily. ‘What is this about?’ Thora glared at her, not wanting her to rock the boat. Johanna pretended not to notice. ‘Who was the father?’she demanded.
